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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27647239">For Once, I Don't Have Pretty Words</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/covacola/pseuds/covacola'>covacola</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Cop/police run in mention, Flashbacks, M/M, No Proofreading We Die Like Men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:01:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27647239</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/covacola/pseuds/covacola</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Last time, his destiny declared he delivered the ones he loved to doom-- but this time?<br/>This time, nothing would stop him from giving them the life they <em>should</em> have had.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>For Once, I Don't Have Pretty Words</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>so anyway read the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/14081637/chapters/32443224">"if this is fate" by taizi</a> its way better I just have Feelings and Want To Write. and I know there's an inspired by button I just don't want this likely-to-be shit show to be linked with taizi's amazing work ajdkakdjak</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gladio, passionate, romantic Gladio. Nothing, not death, not a new world, and not having absolutely no clue of where the hell to start was gonna stop him from finding the people he loved again. </p><p>I mean, if he had been given a second chance of sorts, that meant they did too, right? <em>Right?</em></p><hr/><p>There was no invisible string to tug him along. No wistful force to nudge him in the right direction. He wished there was. </p><p>He had nothing but faith. But he'd worked with less than that. Darkness and <em>Darkness</em> and demons and daemons and literal Gods in his way. But this time around? No such tragedy. The only tragedy was that things weren't 2/3rds set up for him this time around. <em>Good thing too,</em> he told himself constantly, <em>maybe this time, blondie won't have to be alone for so long.</em> </p><p>And in his head, the thoughts couldn't be cut off so cleanly as words muttered over and over again through strangely warped childhood. </p><p>
  <em>And this time, I won't take so damn long. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>At least, that was the plan. </p><hr/><p>The first thing that solidified his runaway "imagination" was fear. He was only 8 when it happened. His father's smile was so so bright when he told Gladio he'd have a little sister. </p><p>For a moment, he was flooded with excitement at the prospect. And then cold, stabbing fear raked its claws over his heart. Somehow, he remembered what had come next. </p><p>He hadn't ever been a good liar, so he'd fumbled making something up as to how an eight-year-old knew about childbirth complications. He'd ended up tearfully recounting his "dreams" to his father, and for a wonder, that was what it had taken for his parents to take the matter seriously. </p><p>He started seeing a counselor, but he wasn't sure how much he wanted to say. He didn't remember a lot-- the ghosts of memories, really. But mostly, he remembered how it felt. He was already on track to be tall, like his father. And he remembered in loving detail caressing cheeks, manhandling stray princes lovers, and playful swats to the rear. All of it had been mortifyingly embarrassing to recall, so he hadn't said any of it. </p><p>The problem was, that had been most of what he could recall at will. The rest was all random, and he never knew what might trigger it. In the end, he opted to stubbornly stick to his fears about his mother and sister. </p><p>It had saved her life. The pregnancy had seemed to go smoothly right up until the end. Being only nine years old, he allowed himself to be spared the details. But his constant worry had kept them on high alert, and it had paid off in the end. </p><p>He'd changed things this time around. </p><p>Holding her in his arms for the very first time, he already knew that he was gonna be so proud of his little sister. Tough as nails and never one to lag behind the boys and so, so caring and understanding and wonderful. </p><hr/><p>That fierce love persisted. But they were still siblings after all. </p><p>She was the same age as he'd been, but he was a moody sixteen now, and he was dead set on going out to find the rest of his heart-- he threatened to emancipate if he had to. </p><p>But Iris was clever and curious and stubborn. And one day, her questions of <em>why don't I remember anyone then?</em> Hit him especially hard. </p><p>The dreams had faded over the years, shortly after she'd been born in fact. He didn't blame her-- obviously. But if depression bowed to reason, we'd never need therapists. </p><p>Their parents had been at work, leaving Gladio to take care of himself and his sister. Nothing but misguided heartache could have made him make such a huge mistake-- he grabbed his biggest backpack, stuffed what few essentials his clouded mind could remember, and left his baby sister wailing. </p><p>He had absolutely no idea where he was going. He knew homeless shelters existed, but he also was pretty sure that if a kid walked up, seeking asylum, he'd probably get the cops called on him and sent right home. He had the sense to drain the card his parents had given him for food, as cash left less than a trail, but he was no expert at any of this. </p><p>He'd ignored every one of his parents phone calls, and when he'd read their texts, he'd simply shut off his phone, hoping it couldn't still be tracked. He was halfway through trying to figure out how much a new sim card might be-- and wracking his brain for the seediest liquor store to buy it from, as he doubted the mall's cell kiosks would sell him one-- when a cop car pulled up. </p><p>Gladio froze, and another snatch of memories came back. Well, not memories, per se. More like a joke. <em>Weird being on the other side of the law.</em> He almost laughed. Just as nearly cried. The woman who stepped out called out to him, and he steeled himself. "Hey there. Listen, I got a call about a kid who--" he didn't let her finish. </p><p>He bolted. Which was stupid, he knew. But he'd done his damnedest to whip himself into shape, and it wasn't hard with Clarus Amicitia for a father (or a determined to keep up with the boys, just as he'd expected Iris Amicitia). He got a whole eight blocks before his resolve faltered, reason washing back over him like a cold wave. </p><p>As he was roughly shoved into the back of the same car that had pulled up on him (which had been kinda unnecessary, he'd stopped struggling the moment he stopped running) all he felt was shame. His resolve had given out long before his breath. And somehow, he couldn't shake the feeling he was giving up on something. </p><hr/><p>The minute he got home, he felt like a total asshole.</p><p>He hadn't said a word when his dad had picked him up. Hadn't reacted at all when the cops had attempted to grill him on why he'd run away. The ride to the station, he hadn't thought of anything, not a damn thing other than three people he was stupidly in love with, even though he's never met them. But as soon as he got home, Iris's sobs tore him apart. </p><p>She ran to him, clearly having resisted their parents reassurances and insistence on going to bed, having ignored everything they'd said in light of her big brother having run out on her. She clung to him, arms around his neck, legs barely able to encircle his back. </p><p>He couldn't stand to see her cry. </p><p>He whispered watery apologies to her, holding her as she shook, ignoring the snot on his shirt. He'd changed her friggen diapers and cut the crusts off her peanut butter and honey sandwiches and always took the blame when they ran out of bread quicker because Gladio ate the PB&amp;J's and just remade her lunches for her. </p><p>He picked her up, hugging her tighter as she clung closer to him. Somehow, he knew. If he had the idea to bolt again, right then and there, she'd cling to him the whole way and never let go. She'd cry, she'd miss mom and dad, but she'd never once let her big bro go without her if she could help it. She'd go with him, whever his stupid stubbornness took him.</p><p>Thankfully, his parents seemed to take the pain in his expression as reprimand enough, making no fuss as he carried her up to bed, tucked her in, and promised he'd still be right there with her when she woke up. </p><p>And as he began to drift, he felt one more punch to the gut as a realization struck him. He hadn't said a damn thing to his mom. His mom, who he'd cried over for nine whole months, terrified he was going to lose her. </p><p>His last waking thoughts, however, circled right back. Haunted him as he was beginning to fear it always would. He swore he knew, he just knew that one of them had somehow slipped from his fingers. </p><hr/><p>Iris woke up before he did, disoriented by how high the sun was in her window. Mama and Papa must have let them stay home from school. But she barely had time to be excited, barely had time to remember the terror of the night before when something somehow far worse filled her wide eyes. </p><p>Gladdy was still asleep. His jaw was clenched, his eyes were still puffy, and she just knew. Knew in that special way of close siblings that this wasn't about what had happened last night. </p><p>She cuddled in closer to him, and seemingly out of reflex he pulled his arm tighter around her. She relaxed, but still worried. Even at eight years old, she knew she hated anyone who could make Gladdy, strong, smiling Gladdy, so sad. </p><p>As if on cue, Gladdy mumbled something in his sleep. A single syllable, a name. She felt her rage grow as she somehow felt she'd held onto this name before for some reason. <em>Noct. </em></p><p> </p>
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